Fits of Madness
by SilverstarsEbonyskies
Summary: Everyone knows power comes with a price. When Danny's power spikes, how high does the price become? Will circumstances outside of his control destroy his life? Or will he rip it apart with his own hands?
1. Chapter 1

I know I really shouldn't be making another story, but I just couldn't get rid of this idea. Since this is a tragedy/romance, don't expect too many uplifting parts if any. This will mostly be a bit depressing just to warn you. I'm not sure if I should continue this, so I would like feedback whether or not you people would want to read this. If people do want me to continue, I think I'll update each story once a week.

Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom, no matter how much it grieves me.

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Fits of Madness

Tragedy/romance

Ch.1

A figure walked slowly down the building, surrounded by a dozen uniformed guards. They were wary of the figure in the center, to the point of fear and slight paranoia despite how calmly the figure cooperated. Lightning flashed brightly, momentarily blinding the guards. Yet the figure took no advantage of the situation, instead, just walking as if it had never happened. The fat drops of rain dashed about fiercely in the wind, wildly whipping the long, white tendrils of hair around the figure's face.

The heavy, metal doors automatically slid open when the group drew near. Five guards went in front of and behind the figure while one went on either side of him. The doors slid shut with a muffled thump. As they walked through the halls of the prison, eyes stared curiously at the newcomer, while whispers permeated the air.

The prisoner's blazing green eyes stared straight ahead. His gaze was haunted, shadows of pain lingering in their depths, never to be banished. People shivered as he walked past. He seemed to make the already freezing air colder with his very presence. The fact that his handcuffs glowed made his appearance all the more eerie.

The heavy clunk of his black boots against the metal floor reverberated through the prison in the semi-silence. Another door slid open, revealing an office of some sort. Everyone watched as the group filtered through the door and into the room beyond. The door slid closed and they all shook themselves from their stupor, getting back to their assigned jobs. But in the back of all their minds, they pondered upon the new arrival, and the immediate uneasiness they had the moment they laid eyes on him.

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Alright…so it begins. Was it okay? Does it need help? Questions? Comments? I would love to hear from all of you.


	2. Chapter 2

I am truly honored by all of the reviews I got. I'm gonna post this chapter a bit earlier than I was planning for just because of all the wonderful reviews! Thanks!

Just a warning: Some of these scenes will be confusing. It's meant to be that way.

Shameless Advertising: I have a decent number of other Danny Phantom fanfics if you're in the mood.

Disclaimer: To make things clear and to absolve any doubt in anyone's mind: I don't own Danny, or any other characters of any tv show. If you did not know this already, you must be a poor, technology-deprived person. Tucker will cry for you.

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Fits of Madness

Ch.2

"Who was that?" one prisoner asked.

The pressure of curiosity had mounted when the newcomer exited the door and headed towards the highest security wing the prison had to offer. As soon as he had gotten out of earshot, a question burst out of someone who couldn't take it anymore. This, of course, had started a barrage of questions from almost everyone, giving the warden a massive migraine.

"Shut up!" he roared. Complete silence followed. No one dared to even breathe loudly. Once the silence had fallen, the warden decided to divulge some information, his reasoning deducing that he would get no peace otherwise.

"His name is Phantom. He will stay in cell X666Z."

He then quickly marched back into his office, the door shutting behind him, helping to muffle the noise of the inevitable clamor that arose. At least this way, they would only make that infernal racket for a short period of time.

"Phantom!" someone cried incredulously, "He's a myth! There's no way that he could actually exist!"

"I knew he existed!" Another shouted in glee, ignoring the shouts of protest from the former speaker.

"He can't! The warden must just be pulling one over on us."

"Are you kidding? The warden doesn't have anything close to a sense of humor! Have you ever seen him crack a smile?"

"Well, even if he did exist, wouldn't he kill us? He's a raving lunatic with more power than ten nuclear power plants!"

A different voice interrupted the feud, "Maybe he's tired of killing. Maybe he's trying to stay sane."

"That monster? I bet it's more like pretending to throw us off our guard!

"Why would he do that? If he's as powerful as you say, he'd have no problem crushing us without all that extra effort."

The debate continued in much the same way throughout the day. By the time the lights shut down for the night, even those in isolation knew what was going on. The general curiosity had even gotten to the usually stoic guards and jailers. All in all, it created a chaos that the warden would rather live without.

The figure was sitting on a standard prison cot, with his back against the stark white of the wall. His head rested against it, and his eyes were closed. It would have looked peaceful, if it were not for the interference of the glowing straitjacket and the harsh sound of his breathing. He started to twitch furiously, and his eyes snapped open. They were not the green color they seemed to normally be. They were a glaring red. He snarled and shook his head, trying desperately to banish the lingering memories that refused to leave him. It was to no avail. He fell to the floor, hitting his head repeatedly against it. Desperation reaching its peak. They came anyway.

_A pointed glare. A corrosion of happiness and a bringer of malice_

_Envy_

_---_

_A tear flowing down a face like porcelain. A defeated slump in posture. A sob, and and the sound of boots pounding against the ground in a hurried tempo. The echoes slipping further away_

_Sorrow_

_---_

_Defiance oozing through chilled expressions. Eyes glaring, flashing looks of a myriad of emotions. Souls quivering in indignation_

_Anger_

_---_

_A sigh. Heart-wrenching. A smile that wasn't a smile at all. Despair yet hope_

_Wistfulness_

_---_

_A past. Set in stone once its present died. A glance backwards in time, upon mere memories. Heart strangely empty, yet full to the point of bursting. Too many tears, there are no more to shed _

_Remorse_

_---_

_A scream. Eyes wide, too scared to cry. Throat clenching. Horrified gasps as air tries to reach the lungs _

_Terror._

_---_

_Sobbing. Tears drenching the floor. Too lifeless to do anything but cry _

_Heartbreak_

_---_

_Anger building. Bitterness and malice overriding rational thought. Barbed words. Glares burning with one of the strongest emotions_

_Hate_

_---_

_Drops of blood trickle down to form a pool. Ragged breaths shudder through the silence. Anguished eyes look up in horror. A life snuffed like the weakest flicker of a candle flame. A laugh, bloodcurdling, malicious, and maniacal. A dead body on the floor. The sound of blood still dripping_

_Pain………_

…………………

………………………

……………………………

……………………………………

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…………………………………………………

……………………………………………………………_**insanity**_

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A wail filled with heart-breaking anguish echoed through the complex, shaking the very building to its core and shocking all of its residents into silence, cowering beneath whatever they deemed sufficient to protect them. Many covered their ears, their clouded minds becoming vaguely surprised as fluid slowly dripped from their ears. Some collapsed in unconsciousness while the others held to sanity for dear life. Finally, the cursed noise stopped.

Three burly men rushed into Phantom's room and restrained the writhing man on the floor while two in lab coats followed behind. They quickly injected a substance into him. He calmed down, his thrashings subsided. The only evidence of the earlier trauma was the rapid movement under his eyelids.

"I think we are in way over our heads here." One of the lab-coated men said to the other grimly.

"I know what you mean." The other answered back, "And the worst part is, I almost feel sorry for the guy."

They both watched Phantom laid on the cot by the guards, with identical expressions of thought and dread on their faces.

"Something is going to happen." One stated.

The other glanced at him, "I know."

And so did everyone else. As they crept out of hiding, no one spoke a word. A big change had taken place, but everyone knew more was yet to come. The question was: Was is for the worse or for the better? The way things were going already, there was no doubt in their minds which one it was.

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Good? Yes? No? Maybe so? I can't judge my work, so it would be nice if you would do it for me. Any suggestions would be appreciated as are all reviews that come to me. Thanks.


	3. Chapter 3

Ack! I'm so sorry it took so long! I was planning on posting this chapter two days ago actually, but my computer was freaking out on me, so I was only able to post it today. I'm sorry once again and I hope the wait was worth it!

I thank all those that have given reviews and all suggestions have been taken into account and noted. Thanks!

Just a notice for future reference: Keep in mind that I am a 14 year old girl who is a freshman in high school and I have no study halls. I'm already a bit pressed for time, and writing all these stories puts a bit more strain on my already filled up schedule.

Shameless Advertising: Here is were I try to convince all you people to read my other stories, but I never was good at persuasion…

Disclaimer: After awhile, I start to run out of creative ideas to say that Danny is not mine. I will mourn.

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Fits of Madness

Ch. 3

No one dared to speak throughout the rest of the night, nor were they ever able to sleep. They all lay awake in their cots, trying any method at hand to drive the memory of that horrible wail from their troubled minds. It seemed to have pierced them to their very core of being, refusing them any type of respite from the agonizing sound. That anguish resonated with their own, bringing up their uniquely unpleasant memories to the forefront of their active conscious, the place where they had fought to keep them for so long. Perhaps reflections upon their own shortcomings, unfortunate circumstances, or mistakes that had landed them in prison; or perhaps they reflected upon a wrong accusation or some type of mental insanity that had haunted them for the rest of their life through no fault of theirs. But whatever it was, it followed them, not even allowing the shortest of slumbers.

So it stands to reason that by the time morning dawned on that institution of the damned, everyone was drained from any sort of energy: physical, mental, or emotional. And even in the daytime, their own horrors lurked somewhere in their thoughts; whether forcefully pushed into one corner of the mind or thought of constantly until it brought the person into a deep depression. This lead to a search for an outlet, distraction, or in short, anything that could take them away from their dark mental dwellings. Near the end of the day, some semblance of normalcy was reached in the form of the exchanged mutterings that had been conspicuously absent that morning. They found that arguing about Phantom was the best distraction to be found, not to mention that he was a perfect target for misplaced anger.

"This is all because of Phantom, I knew he was trouble!"

"For what? Being in pain?"

"For dragging us into some deranged feelings that I haven't thought about for years! It's all some psychological battle to make us weak!"

"It sounded more like he was in pain than anything else."

"But didn't you hear the building shake! He's going to being this cursed place down around our ears!"

"No I didn't notice, probably because I was too busy trying to stay conscious."

"He's plotting something, I know it."

"You can go ahead and let your paranoia sink a hold into you, but keep you suspicions to yourself."

"Then don't go around blabbing on about sympathy for the monster."

Conversations like these spread wildly around like wildfire until almost everybody had taken a side. There were those for Phantom, those against him, and those who were either too confused or simply didn't care enough to choose. It goes without saying that less people were for than against him.

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The warden sat exhausted in his chair, cradling his head thick with ebony colored hair in his hands and taking deep, calming breaths. The slight sheen of perspiration was barely visible against his alarmingly white skin. The past two days had been particularly draining, not to mention that the prisoners had started to become even more difficult than usual. I didn't help that he already had so much on his plate. After all, long-term possession isn't easy.

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An old man was outside of cell X666Z. He wore a purple cloak, accenting the odd sheen of his skin…which seemed almost green. He held an odd staff in his hand, yet he wasn't leaning against it. He didn't need to; possibly because he was floating. He peered into the cell through the small window in the door and watched sadly as Phantom's eyes shifted rapidly between green and red. The being sighed.

"For now, Daniel, you are fighting a losing battle. Yet perhaps in the course of the events to come, that might change. I am sorry it had to be this way, but the delicate balance of time must be preserved." His smile was hollow, "At least this way, there is a chance that you may find yourself once more; and perhaps, you may be redeemed."

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The Phantom felt it. The insanity fighting, bubbling just under the surface of his mind. It was there, biding its time for a moment of weakness. The weakness would come, because it had all the time in the world to wait. A blue mist that escaped his mouth brought him temporary relief from his constant and eternal struggle. His wide eyes darted to the only window, where the fringe of a purple cloak and the slight swirl of green energy caught his gaze.

"Clockwork." He hissed.

His eyes narrowed. They turned red.

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The warden turned an irate glare upon the two newer guards that had dared to disturb him.

"The Phantom's going berserk!" One of the guards burst out when he was able to assemble the words. Obviously, these two lacked the normal firm countenance and finesse that the more seasoned guards had learned to adopt.

"Explain." The warden ordered.

"He's damaging the walls, sir! They are made of titanium and he is creating dents in them!" The other elaborated.

The warden's brow was furrowed in thought.

"At this rate, the ghost shield will have to be set up." He mumbled his thoughts aloud.

"What was that, sir?"

He looked up sharply and ordered, "Go back to your stations. I'll settle him down."

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A small group of newly recruited guards crowded around one of the security monitors, their faces slack-jawed. They watched with an almost morbid fascination as the figure on the screen rammed repeatedly into the metal walls of his enclosure, making large dents appear in spite of the supposed impossibility.

The Phantom gave an inhuman roar, straining with every ounce of his strength against the Kevlar enhanced fabric that bound him. With a resounding rip that had the eyes of the guards nearly pop out of their heads, the straitjacket gave way and fell to the floor. Along with the tattered remains of material, a fine silvery powder sprinkled from around his wrists and to the ground.

One of the guards gasped apparent horror.

"What?" One of the more coherent guards asked.

"That dust is what's left of the ghost inhibitor cuffs." He answered, turning to face the other with an ashen face, "You think he was powerful just then? You haven't seen anything yet." His face was etched with lines that told stories that should never have been.

The first guard turned back to face the monitor with a sense of terror that he just couldn't seem to shake off. How could he, when the main character of the world's most tragic life story stood in front of his very eyes?

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I hope this chapter stands up to everyone's standards, and I am sorry again for the long wait.

Please review! Criticism and praise are greatly appreciated along with any comments or questions you have. Thanks!


	4. Chapter 4

I have come with another update! Once again, I sorry for my slow update, but I really don't have much time to myself to write. So thanks to all of you reviewers, and I hope everyone likes this next installment!

Shameless Advertising: I do have other stories to read if any are interested.

Disclaimer: If I said I own Danny Phantom, people would either sue me for all I'm worth, try to murder me with any weapon available, or simply throw me in the madhouse. So I'll keep my money, life, and sanity and say that I really don't own that wonderful show.

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Fits of Madness

Ch. 4

Word had spread faster than lightning about the disturbance in Phantom's cell, and all who could crowded around security monitors, the braver ones even daring to watch the spectacle from around the small window. Even the guards left their posts to watch, futilely trying to mask their curiosity.

Inside, Phantom's hands fisted at his sides, shaking uncontrollably as he tried to fight his own madness. Small swirls of green whipped about like scraps of cloth in a hurricane in the red of his crazed eyes, grappling for the upper hand. He was losing, and losing badly. The green started to diminish, and then it disappeared completely.

A roar burst from his mouth, his teeth growing to absurd lengths, and his nails turning into claws in much the same way. His crimson eyes dilated, and his skin gained a tinge of black, contrasting sharply with his hair. With another earth-shaking roar, he plunged a clawed hand deeply into the metal of his enclosure, tearing a gaping gash into the titanium as he yanked it back out. It was like the metal was melted butter in the face of those claws.

Those at the window quickly lost their desire to be there and promptly left, squeezing as best as they could in the throng of people around the screens. They watched, amazed, as Phantom tore chunk after chunk of metal out of the walls in no recognizable pattern that they could see. The only thing still keeping Phantom inside was the fact the walls were insanely thick, being at least twenty feet.

The warden took long strides down the hall. In his pale hand he held a round silver device. When his long strides landed him in front of the door, he stuck the device on just above the frame of the door. He pressed the protrusion on the device, which made it sink into the rest of it. With a metallic humming, it glowed green. A sheet of green encompassed the walls, covering the outside of the cell completely. The warden smirked.

Apparently, Phantom noticed this new addition to his prison, as he roared, aggravated, at his failure to pierce through the glowing shield. He quickly disregarded his failure, and kept banging away steadily at the unmoving obstacle. He made no progress to speak of. He continued his attempts, his rage not letting him listen to reason for the time being. The warden walked away, giving a knowing glance at the camera stationed in the corner of the ceiling. Everyone in the security room hurriedly rushed to their stations, hoping to get there before the warden could punish them for neglecting their duties.

Luckily for them, no one got caught, which put a damper on the warden's mood. He was so hoping for some entertainment… A few minuets later, an unlucky guard stood unnaturally strait in front of the office door. He had been pinned with the unfortunate job of the messenger by his fellows who guarded the same area. With a hand stiff from the effort of keeping it from shaking, he pounded firmly upon the smooth metal. With an ominous hiss, it slid open. He stepped cautiously inside. A harsh and glaring lamp stood at the front edge of the desk, creating shadows which obscured the warden's sallow face. He could almost swear that the eyes held some sort of a dull, eerie glow… The door shut behind him.

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A furious warden stomped out of his office, his shoes creating horrible noises as they were pounded heavily onto the floor. Everyone got as far away as they could, for fear of being on the receiving end of his infamous temper. It made him most unhappy to hear the news, and he couldn't help shooting the messenger. He had the consequences of his behavior though, including the drudgery of hiring another guard, disposing of the body, and even cleaning the bloodstain on the floor. He couldn't let it get out that their fears were of him turned out to be well grounded. It was so much easier to deal with when it was irrational. Especially since it could lead to investigation. It would be difficult to sustain control over his victim for that long…

He stopped his raged steps in front of a particularly high security cell. There was nothing wrong with it. The problem lay in the fact that no one was in it. One of the people he most wanted to stay put and locked in the cell, had miraculously escaped. There was no possible explanation for it. He had also managed to snag some equipment that was essential and extremely expensive. That's what you get for buying banned objects in the Black Market.

Unnoticed to him, an invisible convict was peering around the corner, with an armload of electronics and various other gadgets, and a smirk settled on his face. Although he seemed confident, he was also wary. It came with past experience. Hovering above him with hands on his shoulders was another invisible figure. This one watched the warden as well, and if you could see the eyes, they would be a strange, glowing purple, and though the expression was empty, it was also filled with a sadness that was hard to describe.

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I will dance now with the joy of finally completing this chapter. I had no time earlier, seeing as school had spontaneously decided to dump a truckload of work on me at once. Well, that's school for you…

Oh, and sorry if this chapter's a bit sketchy...I'm not entirely happy with it...

Anyways, how did you like it? I am eager to hear all of you people's opinions, comments, suggestions, criticism, etc. It really helps. Thank you!


	5. Chapter 5

Alright, finally this chapter is finished. I'm sorry to all those that were waiting…and I hope all you people like this next part of Fits of Madness. Some of you who were burning with questions should have some of them answered, at least partially.

**Warning: Descriptive Violence and Blood in this chapter. You are warned. **

Shameless Advertising: Once again, I implore you to read my other DP fanfics…

Disclaimer: As I have already stated numerous times before, I do not own Danny Phantom. I would hope that all of you knew that already…

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Fits of Madness

Ch. 5

The Phantom leaned against the wall, his hands braced against the jagged, protruding metal of the ripped walls. His breathing had become ragged, and his eyes still held the crazed, blood red look that they held when his insanity took over.

Oh no, it would not let go of him yet.

He roared, a scream lingering in the depths of that powerful sound. As he fell to his knees, his hands came up to grasp his head. His fingernails dug in so hard that they lodged in his skull, causing an odd mixture of human blood and ectoplasm to flow out of the puncture wounds.

There was more green than red in that blood. Much more.

With one last cry of pain and anguish, he fell into the land of his nightmarish memories.

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"_Danny, what's happening to you?" The beautiful violet eyed girl asked. _

_Her voice betrayed her fear. It was broken. _

_He whirled on her, saying, "There's nothing wrong with me!"_

_His eyes…_

"_Danny, why is there red in your eyes?" _

_It was the first time she saw it._

_He just glared at her. She could still see it even though they were narrowed. _

"_Look!" She exclaimed, turning him toward the mirror. _

_As he grudgingly peered into his own eyes, small flecks of red danced maliciously in the azure of his irises. _

_She put a hand on his shoulder. He shook it off and turned his back stonily towards her. _

"_Danny…" She expelled a shaky breath, "You have to listen to me. Something's happening to you. You're starting to not be Danny anymore."_

_He turned back around faster than you'd think physics would allow, gripping her arms so hard with his hands that the flesh was sure to be bruised. _

"_There is nothing wrong with me." He hissed. _

_She almost collapsed on the floor when he suddenly released her with no warning. He didn't even say goodbye when he walked out of the door. The glass in the door shuttered when it slammed._

_She had seen in that slight instant…instead of flecks, there were whole streaks of red. _

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_A trembling girl with orange hair and turquoise eyes stared pleadingly at him from her crumpled position on the cold asphalt of the small abandoned street. The only streetlight flickered pitifully, more a hindrance than a help to her eyesight. Blood trailed down a shallow gash along the length of her neck and her left arm hung uselessly at her side, hanging only by a single thin tendon. Blood completely soaked through the long sleeve, dying it a sickening shade of deep red. _

"_Danny, please don't do this!" _

_Tears stated to run down her face to mix with the blood on her neck. _

_All she saw was the sadistic gleam of red eyes before she never saw again…_

_She couldn't even scream._

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The Phantom's eyes shot back open as he fought his way back to reality from the tortured glimpses of the past lodged forever in his mind. His eyes regained some miniscule flecks of green. With a snarl, he thrust a clawed hand deep into his chest, tearing his still beating heart out of its cavity. The blood gushed out from the organ; the small eddies of red floating in the ghostly green. In anger, he crushed it. His claws puntured it through.

"WHY CAN'T I DIE?" He screamed. Spittle flew from his mouth.

In disgust, he threw the disfigured lump onto the floor.

All at once, the insanity left him, sapping his strength as it went. His eyes turned back to green and he assumed his "normal" appearance. He fell to the ground, his eyes left to stare at the mess he had made of his heart, since he didn't even have the power, nor the will, to turn his head.

It was grotesque, but fitting. That must be what his emotional heart looked like.

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The convict glanced up at the glowing purple eyes of his savior.

"Thanks so much, I would never have gotten out without your help."

He smiled gratefully. Granted, it was small, but it was the best he could do under the circumstances.

"It's nothing, Tucker. I'd do anything to help."

Her answering smile was even smaller. She had more reason for it.

"I just can't believe you found a way out of the Ghost Zone."

His tone reflected amazement.

"Clockwork helped."

"Ah, that explains it."

His small smile turned grim.

"Are you sure you'll be able to go through with this?"

He was concerned. It was hard to make him concerned those days.

"I have to."

Her voice was determined, but there was no mistaking the strain behind it.

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The Warden paced in his office, almost like a caged predator. With seemingly no reason, his breathing became labored. A hand came up to clench at his chest, and he gasped. Within seconds, there was no evidence of the spasm ever happening.

"It's getting harder…" The Warden muttered agitatedly, "He's learning how to fight back."

Just another thing to heap on the ever growing pile of his problems.

"I don't know how long even both of our powers will last."

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Eh, it's a bit short, but I hope it has enough substance for you to ponder about for awhile. The whole heart thing was a bit…interesting…I was in a violent mood…

Anyways, I hope you all liked it and I really want to hear what all of you people think! Any and all reviews are greatly appreciated. Thanks so much!


	6. Chapter 6

Hey, everyone! I'm so sorry that I've been gone this long…this has been my first opportunity to upload a chapter…I'll get to my other stories as quickly as possible.

Shameless Advertising: If you haven't read my other stories…I would absolutely love it if you did.

Disclaimer: I have no way to somehow own Danny Phantom. Unless it miraculously landed on my lap…I have no hope.

Fits of Madness

Ch. 6

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The purple eyed ghost flew up to the roof of the prison complex, taking Tucker with her. Within seconds, they had passed through the metal and were back into the air of the outside world. It was evening now, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. It was almost unnaturally good weather. It was almost unnerving.

"Will you be okay up here?" She asked, unsuccessful at keeping concern from her voice. She felt uneasy, good things never happened when she felt uneasy.

"Yeah, sure. It's not like I'll be up here for too long anyways. You just go and do what you need to do. I'll set up a few things here and get started on my part." He paused, struggling with what to say. "Just…be careful, Sam. He's not the same, you know that."

"Yeah…I know." She bit her lip and her eyes seemed to look far away. With one last glance at Tucker, she passed through the floor and into the stagnation of the prison below. 

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The Warden was walking through the halls, making his regular rounds around the prison to make sure everything was in order and to make sure the newer officers weren't goofing off. One was…just moments before. He won't ever make that mistake again. The Warden's lips stretched into a smile. That little bit of fun was just what he needed to brighten up his day. The smile froze on his face, and without any other warning, he tilted over and crashed bodily into the wall.

"Sir!" An alarmed guard exclaimed, running quickly to check his superior's health.

The Warden started to pant, taking in mammoth gulps of air. His eyes bulged and started to roll wildly around in their sockets, losing themselves in the back of his head for seconds at a time. He shot up, sitting against the wall and grabbing the guard's collar in a vise-like grip.

"Help me…" He whispered raggedly, pleading and desperate sounding. His eyes held a crazed look that sent the guard's skin crawling. 

"Sir?" The guard asked, mystified and a little scared. 

The Warden took in more air, almost choking on it.

"Hel-." He started to say, getting cut off by his own soundless scream.

The guard stared, trying to make sense of the bizarre situation, and trying to not sink into panic. He almost did when the Warden's eyes flashed. The guard shook his head, trying to get the notion that the Warden's eyes had actually glowed out of his head. It was absurd…but then again…so many weird things were happening lately…

In the few seconds that the guard had been lost in thought, the Warden had apparently pieced himself back together. With a harsh yank, he jerked the guard to his feet, as the Warden had already picked himself back up.

"Get back to your station." He ordered coldly, looking beyond furious.

"But, Sir!" The guard protested, wondering about the state of the Warden's mental health.

"Go!" He barked, not in the mood for any type of disobedience.

The subordinate immediately skittered back to his post, assuming his customary emotionless mask.

"Dammit." The Warden muttered under his breath as he angrily made his way to his office. 

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If some guard had walked in the Warden's office at that particular moment in time, he would either question the Warden's sanity or his own. For you see, at that particular moment, it seemed that the Warden was carrying on a very heated discussion…with himself. 

"This isn't working." The Warden sounded almost monotonous.

"We have to make it work." This time, his voice carried a bit more emotion, in this instance, determination and the slightest hint of coldness. Somehow, at the same time, the voice held a matter-of-factness...

"He's breaking free. I don't think we have enough power to hold him back for too much longer."

"We've done it somehow for the past six years. We'll find a way to make it work. We have to."

"We need a new plan, a better plan."

"We don't have time for that!"

"Have it your way. But I warned you."

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The Phantom lay on the ground, still looking at what used to be his heart. It was little more than a decaying mound of flesh now. His clothes were ripped where he had pulled it out in his rage, and yet the skin beneath had reformed flawlessly. Not even the slightest sign to show that there had been only an empty cavity there at one point. His shirt however, was ruined beyond repair, just pieces of black fabric hanging on for dear life to his torso.

With shaking limbs, he hoisted himself up on his hands and knees, his eyes blank and cold, but still green. His head rose slowly, turning to the side to face the door's small window.

And there she was. The goddess that haunted his memories, his dreams, his fears, and his worst nightmares. The angel that saved him.

Sam.

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I know it's short, and more of a transitional chapter…but I really can't help that much. I'll post again as soon as I can.

Please tell me how you like it! Any comment would be appreciated.

Thank you!


	7. Chapter 7

Hello people! Yes, I know I just recently updated this one, but here's another chapter anyways! Enjoy!

Shameless Advertising: Like this? Then you'll most likely like my other DP stories too.

Disclaimer: Come on, do you really think for a moment that I own any part of this wonderful show? I wish.

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Fits of Madness

Ch. 7

Tucker stood for a moment, on top of that rooftop. He felt that something was distinctly wrong…and yet nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. Everything was going according to plan so far, but in his experience, there is always the possibility that something could go wrong. And in this situation, if something went wrong, there would be dire consequences, things that should never be thought of. The world would be stuck in a nightmare that it could never wake up from.

He shook his head, trying to get those morose thoughts out of his mind. He had work to do, and if he screwed it up just because he was thinking about what would happen if he did…He moved a few metallic boxes around, connecting wires and setting up screens. Within minuets, he had assembled his own supercomputer, with the Warden's equipment and on top of his prison. He had thought the Warden wouldn't be able to find him there.

He was wrong.

"What do you think you are doing?"

Tucker stiffened, turning behind him with barely concealed dread lingering behind his eyes. Calling upon his sometimes rash courage, he said,

"Stopping you. You know your plan won't work. You can't keep him locked up forever. He'll find a way to escape, he always does."

The Warden's eyes flashed a deadly yellow.

"I will do what I think is best for him. Do you really think you can change him back? That you and that dead girl can somehow free him of his mental plague?"

The Warden saw Tucker's shock.

"Oh yes, I know she found a way out. I'm not stupid. You should know that."

Tucker became livid, reminded of a day years before.

"I thought I knew you. Now I'm sure I don't. You aren't who you used to be either."

The Warden barked out a laugh. It sounded unnatural.

"Of course not. What did you expect? That I would stay the way you knew me when we were in high school? Face it, Tucker. Look around you. This isn't the same world, and these aren't the same people. Everyone has changed, including you."

Tucker glared, almost too furious for words. The words had stung, even though he was far away from admitting it. In a low voice, he replied:

"At least I've changed for the better."

To which the Warden replied, "I wouldn't be so sure."

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The Phantom stared, still on his hands and knees. His green eyes were blank, not completely registering what he was seeing. It simply wasn't possible, that she was standing there before him. It just couldn't be happening…Sam…no it couldn't be Sam…the delusion turned off the shield and phased through the door, turning it back on behind her. There was no way she could leave now, unless someone freed her from the outside. In essence, she was trapped.

She stepped towards him, not even showing the slightest trace of fear. She was going to get Danny back, even if it cost her the only life she had left. The Phantom stared at her, still not fully comprehending the fact that it really was Sam, and she really was there.

Suddenly, he screamed, crumbling to the ground. Sam rushed towards him. Alarm and concern were written clearly all over her face. To her immense relief, when he opened his unseeing eyes, they were still the luminous green. He had not succumbed to the madness yet.

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"_Danny?" _

_The beautiful violet-eyed girl looked up into his sky-blue ones._

"_Yeah?" _

_She could feel the words rumbling in his chest from where her head lay on it. _

"_I like this."_

_He chuckled happily._

"_Yeah, so do I."_

_They both smiled, drifting off to sleep in each other's arms, watching the stars. _

_----------_

"_Danny!"_

_The scream was horrible, the terror of it clawed painfully at his heart. _

_But he couldn't do anything…He smelled the blood. It made him feel nauseous. But he still couldn't do anything, he couldn't move._

_Because he was dieing. _

"_Danny!"_

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"_Danny, don't do this." _

"_Why?"_

"_Because you really don't want to."_

"_Yes, I do."_

_A sigh._

"_No, you really don't."_

"_Why wouldn't I?"_

"_Because it would ruin your life, that's why. And I know how hard you worked to make it the way it is."_

"_No, you don't. Not really."_

"_Maybe not, but I know enough."_

_---------------_

"_Thank you." He said, burying his face into her hair. _

_Her arms wrapped around him, "It's what I'm here for. I stop you from doing stupid stuff. It's my job."_

_His arms wrapped around her._

"_I love you, you know."_

_She smiled contentedly, "Yeah, I know. And I love you too."_

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"_Sam!" _

"_Sam!"_

_Knees hit the concrete, and so did his tears. I didn't…"_

_She didn't come back. He kept on crying. There wasn't anything to be happy for anymore. Never again._

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_There was a storm in his mind. It was all he could sense, the chaotic confusion raging away inside his mind It pressed against him, pushing and pulling until he couldn't think or feel anymore… He didn't know what he was doing, he couldn't see past the storm. Like always, when the storm calmed, when he could think and feel again…blood was on his hands. _

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'_Help me.' He thought._

'_Free me.' He pleaded._

_No one heard. They never did. There was no one left who could. _

_So he was left at the mercy of himself, rotting away in a corner of his own mind while the people were screaming. _

'_Save me…'_

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"I still love you…" She whispered to him as he writhed on the floor. Her hand lightly stroked his blood-flecked hair, "I just need you to come back."

She stayed with him, stroking his hair and whispering words to him until his writhing gave way to slumber. She smiled a sad smile, while ghostly tears slid from her face to fall on his.

'_Save me…'_

"I will." She whispered.

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Good, bad, so-so? Suggestions, comments, etc?

Please review! They make me happy!

Thank you so much for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

Here's the next chapter! The next in line for an update it either going to be Horrors of Humanity, Wreaking Havoc, or Isolated.

Shameless Advertising: You should know what this means by now.

Disclaimer: Same as above.

Fits of Madness

Ch. 8

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"Why do you even try?" The Warden asked quietly, breaking the charged silence.

Tucker knew what he was asking, but gave no sign that he did.

"What do you mean?"

"Why do you try to free him when you know it's destined to fail!"

There was more silence after the outburst.

"We try because he is my friend and her-."

"Her what? Her boyfriend? I would hardly call him that anymore!"

"That doesn't matter!" Tucker roared, effectively shutting him up, "She loves him, and he loves her!"

"But things are never that simple."

There was sadness in his voice…and perhaps even remorse.

"Why not?"

Tucker's voice was filled with emotion.

To that, the Warden could give no answer.

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She tried to stop her tears. But it seemed that her heart had other plans. Despite her attempts, the small trickle of tears turned into a flood. Even through all those years, the pain had never faded, never grown dull. It never stopped digging into her heart; it never went away, even for the briefest of moments.

It was the worst of tortures, knowing that not only had she caused the pain to herself, but the pain that haunted him as well. Yes, it was her action that caused this; it was she who had brought down this agony upon the both of them.

She would give anything to reverse her stupid mistake, to turn back time and make it so that it never happened.

Anything.

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The guards stationed at the monitor looked, bewildered and amazed, at the ghost who had just imprisoned herself in with the Phantom. First of all, ghosts were banned from the human realm, completely unable to escape from the Ghost Zone. Secondly, penning herself in with Phantom was like buying a ticket to hell, absolutely insane. Even the ghosts, before they had been banished, were terrified of him. So terrified, that they helped seal to themselves away in the Ghost Zone, as long as Phantom stayed in the human realm.

They were shocked again to see the Phantom writhing on the floor...with the girl actually calming him down. They stared at the screen in a pseudo-comatose state for awhile. Until one of them finally stood up and bolted towards the door in an attempt to figure out what the heck was going on.

"Ma'am?" He shouted questioningly through the ghost shield.

Startled, Sam turned around to look at the man, jerking herself out of her depressing mental wanderings.

"You need to get out of there, he's dangerous."

"I know."

Her response was calm, and almost uncaring.

"I don't know how you managed to get out of the ghost zone, but you need to get back there, where you belong."

"No, I don't."

"Ma'am! I order you to get out of that cell!"

With a gasp, Sam turned her attention back to the Phantom. He was stirring, he was waking up. His eyes snapped open, revealing the green irises almost completely consumed by the malicious swirls of red. In desperation, she tried to soothe him, tears threatening to spill over once more.

Her attempts were in vain.

He stood up, growling. His skin turned the color of charcoal, teeth turning into fangs and nails into claws. His now completely red eyes glowed furiously. He was lost in the madness.

The guard had his finger on the button for the shield, not wanting to leave her trapped, but not wanting Phantom to escape. Sam noticed his position.

"Leave me here! This is what I came for!"

The Phantom roared, his eyes not leaving the ghost that sat on the floor in front of him.

"But-."

"GO!"

With great hesitation, he ran back the way he came. It seemed there was nothing he could do to change her mind. Hopefully she wouldn't be sent to oblivion.

Sam stood. She stared straight into his eyes, unflinchingly and without fear.

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He could see the confusion, the rage, the pain, and the fear. It didn't stop with just feeling. He could hear it too, and smell and taste it. They were tangible, choking him and smothering him. He couldn't see beyond them, they were the only reality. The world was an illusion, along with happiness. Despair was his friend, and they knew each other well, very well. He couldn't live without his dear friend…

But he faintly recalled words from long ago, words that he treasured…They lingered in the back of his mind, away from despair. He reached for them, he wanted to know. They danced away like the elusive eddies of the wind. He followed them, and despair followed him. The words still danced away. The despair latched on to him, it didn't want to let him go. He stood there, watching as the words flew farther and farther away…

The despair whispered other words to him, familiar words. Words that someone had told him a long time ago. He held onto these words, but they lay limp in his hand… He let them go, they disappeared. He saw the words he wanted in the distance, calling to him.

But his despair didn't let him follow.

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More silence.

"I can't let you ruin what I've worked so hard to do."

The Warden's voice was steely.

"And I can't let you do this to him."

Tucker was determined.

"I didn't want it to come to this."

"Neither did I."

At the exact same moment, they pulled out their weapons. The Warden, an ordinary gun, and Tucker, some sort of anti-ghost gun.

"Has your aim improved any?"

Tucker's voice was verging onto mocking.

"You'll just have to see for yourself."

Two gunshots in one moment of time. Two screams.

Tucker crashed to the ground, clasping his left arm in a death grip. Rivulets of blood streamed down from the wound. The Warden still stood albeit barely, with one ghost expelled from his system. Tucker couldn't rip his eyes away, even as he felt the red fluid seeping through his fingers. It was a blow to his mind, his emotions to see that one ghost after so long…after seeing the death…after having never seen her for so many years.

It was hard to see Jazz again.

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I bet you didn't see that coming...


	9. Chapter 9

Yay! Another update! Anyways, there's only 2-3 more chapters left to this story. Then comes the prequel. 8F

Shameless Advertising: I'm focusing on Isolated along with this story until they're done. So I would love for you to check that out as well...

Disclaimer: Meh. I own nothing of DP itself. . Butch Hartman is awesome.

Fits of Madness

Ch. 9

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Even though he knew it was her, even though he had prepared himself for this moment, he found himself woefully inadequate. Tucker couldn't even feel the pain of his wound, or the feeling of his blood gushing out from between his fingers as he stared at her.

Her eyes were fixed on his, showing no particular expression and yet showing all of them at once. All of her emotions fought in her mind, all demanding attention. How can one person feel everything and nothing at once? It's one of life's mysteries. A thing that poets, artists, and writers stumble over themselves trying to describe, to capture, to emulate. Such a complex and simple thing cannot be conveyed in mere words, or pictures. It is a paradox, something which our minds are incapable of grasping even though we can feel it so easily.

And so they gazed into each other's eyes, frozen in their unfeeling pathos.

Love is not blind. It is demented.

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Clips of her life flitted through her mind as she stood defiantly before his insanity. Perhaps it was what people tend to refer to as that instant in which your life passes before your eyes…just before you die. Or perhaps it was some subconscious need. Maybe she desperately wanted to look upon her life as it was; an innate longing, a type of nostalgia.

But really, there is no label that can be slapped on it; there is no one emotion that dominated throughout these viewing of times long passed away in her life.

Labels are for thing we understand…at least vaguely.

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_It was night, and the moon was but a sliver of silver light that hung, glittering, in the sky. Sam lay on top of her bed, over the covers. Her violet eyes stared at the ceiling, random thoughts drifting through her head as often happens during that indistinct period before one drifts off to sleep. She played idly with the hem of her black nightdress. _

_She was waiting…for him._

_She smiled as the temperature in the room dropped. _

_As she sat up, she looked curiously at the shadowed form in the corner. Why wasn't he moving? She slid off her bed and approached him with concern. _

"_Danny?"_

_A hand roughly grabbed her wrist. It wasn't him. _

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_She was sitting in the tree outside her house, leaning her head upon his shoulder. His neon green eyes were staring into the sky. His arm was wrapped around her waist. She was grateful for the coolness of his body in ghost mode. It had been a scorching summer, and it seemed like the heat didn't want to leave, even though the sun had gone down hours ago. _

_She closed her eyes in contentment and she drifted off to the realms of sleep. The white-haired boy gazed fondly upon the girl of his dreams and he vowed he would never lose her. _

_Promises weren't made to be broken. They just always are. _

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_Why couldn't she do anything? She just stood there, unmoving, as his life drained out of his veins in the form of green ectoplasm which was flowing steadily from his body. _

_So why wasn't she moving? There were no ropes that held her, no chains that tied her to a nearby post…so why did every effort to take a simple step forward come to nothing? _

_She just stood there, doing nothing as her love died. All because of her. _

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_She nearly laughed at the irony. What was that movie called again? Oh yes, Spiderman 3. There was that one quote, and she felt that it described the situation quite well._

"_You cannot fight the darkness for long without finding it within yourself." She whispered._

_Yes, that quote was perfect._

_She had thought that facing Dan was enough, that entire tangle of what-ifs and what-could-have-beens. Evidently, there is never an 'enough'. There never would be. _

_There is always something worse. She should have never forgotten that. _

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_She avoided looking at the charred remains of her house. Looking at it would just make the pain all the more unbearable. It would just be an ugly reminder. She didn't need that. But even as hard as she tried to not think about it, one question demanded her attention. It was a simple word. One that many people ask themselves over and over again during the span of their lives.. Now it was her turn. _

_Why?_

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There she was. She stood there, sad eyes staring into his own. This was the diversion of ways. Those few moments in time would determine the course of the future, for both themselves and the rest of the world. There were a million ways to fail, to send the earth and the people on it into a careening abyss, a living nightmare…beyond anyone's worst fears. There was but one way to win, to save him from himself. To save the world. One misstep would be worse than fatal, worse than catastrophic. They held fate, they controlled it.

But how could she know? How could she know the chances were so slim, that failure was almost guaranteed? How could she find the right path to take, when it would seem like she would fail even as she triumphed? There was nothing she could do but walk out blindly, to take the chance…

Even now, Clockwork wondered how Sam could stave off that feeling of futility so easily. The sense that she would be throwing her life away for nothing. How could she have stared into the eyes of insanity, and perhaps death itself and not tremble? How could she even look upon the man that she loved so completely, when his only desire was to kill her? What strength, what madness is it, that she could stare into those blood-colored eyes so unflinchingly?

What madness indeed. For what could fight insanity but itself? Perhaps she contained a different sort of madness. The kind that feared nothing, which cared nothing for itself. An insanity that battled against the very nature of humanity.

Madness could save the world, and madness could damn it.

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I love that last line. It is mine. No one take it or I will rip out your intestines and strangle you with them. I really will. (insert crazed look here)

But anyways, I hope you like this chapter!


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